The Battered Body

THREE

At five o’clock that same Saturday, the supper club members gathered on the front porch of Gillian’s house. Every one of them was bundled up beneath layers of shirts, sweaters, and outerwear. An unpleasant wind had developed over the course of the afternoon, which seemed intent on forcing goose bumps to erupt on the back of everyone’s neck.

“This is the bad part about living between two mountain chains,” James said with a shiver. “The wind just attacks you.”

“I know. My lips are peeling off like pieces of old wallpaper. Still, I do hope we get some snow!” Lindy Perez, the cheerful high school art teacher, declared. “Everything’s so beautiful when it’s covered by a fresh layer of pure white.” She stretched her short arms out in front of her. “Reminds me of the feeling I get whenever I stare at a new canvas or a block of fresh clay. I get all tingly all over just thinking about the possibilities.”

Gillian opened the front door of her large Victorian house and emerged onto the porch carrying a silver-plate tray loaded with a teapot and five pottery mugs. “Oh, it’s so dark already. The winter solstice is almost upon us, so I’ve made us some soul-warming herbal tea,” she announced, setting the heavy tray down on one of the wicker side tables. “Gather around and inhale this fragrance. While you sip, be grateful that we’re not looking at the winter as the famine months as our ancestors would have done.”

“When it comes to your teas, I might prefer goin’ without.” Bennett took the top off the teapot and sniffed. “Lord help us! What are you tryin’ to sneak down our throats, woman? Fresh mulch tea? Ugh!” He grunted as Gillian lifted the teapot and placed it directly beneath his nose. “This stuff smells like my backyard.”

“Excellent olfactory observation. I am so proud of you for activating your other senses!” Gillian replied. “This is pine needle tea. It’s very high in vitamin C and helps relieve congestion. You sound a bit stuffed up to me, Bennett. If you lack the confidence to experiment with a new taste, then I’ll give you some leaves to take home. You can take a nice pine needle tea bath and all your aching joints will be soothed. Isn’t nature incredible ?”

“How’d you know my joints were sore?” Bennett looked at Gillian in surprise.

“You know how intuitive I am,” Gillian stated. “When I was in my mid-twenties, I took yoga classes from a very spiritual woman. She told me that I was deeply in tune with my inner-”

“I brought something to warm us up too,” Lucy interrupted, gesturing at a large metal thermos resting on the porch floor. “Hot buttered rum. It’s a recipe my folks have used for years to make it through the cavalcade without turning into human ice sculptures. It’ll send a shot of heat right down your gullet and straight to your toes.”

“Now that’s more like it. Hit me with a cup of that brew.” Bennett pointed at the thermos. “Look there! I think our first vehicle is comin’ down the road.”

The five friends moved to the edge of Gillian’s porch and cheered at the sight of a Shenandoah County recycling truck.

The Christmas Cavalcade was established fifteen years prior in order to encourage hometown pride. Each of the Quincy’s Gap municipal departments decorated a vehicle of their choice with Christmas lights, garlands, ornaments, plastic statues, stuffed animals, and anything else they felt would spread holiday cheer. Members of each department hung out windows, sat inside trunks, or perched on top of the roof of their cars, trucks, vans, or buses in order to distribute goodies to the multitude of children who flocked to Quincy’s Gap in hopes of filling paper lunch bags with free holiday treats.

Gillian’s house was perfectly situated for viewing the cavalcade. She lived in the heart of the downtown historic area, and all the parade vehicles would begin their journey at the old courthouse, which was two blocks north of her three-story, pink and green home.

As usual, dozens of bystanders had set up folding chairs and portable heaters on the sidewalk in front of the house, for Gillian had always been gracious about allowing the spectators the use of both her lawn and her bathroom. One year, she had even baked Christmas cookies for the cavalcade observers, but most of her organic, gluten-free goodies had found their way into the storm drain at the corner. Out of kindness, one woman had told Gillian that the children got enough treats during the event and didn’t need any more sugar.

“We don’t want ’em to be spoiled,” she had said tactfully. “You don’t need to bake them anything when they’re gettin’ all this candy already. But thank you so much for bein’ so kind.”

Gillian restricted her cookie making to an even dozen, which she now shared among her friends. They all hated the cookies, but were unwilling to offend their hostess by leaving them uneaten. This year, however, James had a plan in place in order to avoid having to chew on a baked good that tasted remarkably like chalk. He took two cookies from Gillian’s multicultural holiday platter, which showed a rainbow of children’s faces around the border and a dove carrying a holly branch in the center, and stuffed them into a snack-sized plastic bag that he had placed in his coat pocket earlier that evening.

James thought that he had slipped the cookies into his jacket undetected, but Lucy sidled up to him and said, “Smooth move. Got room for mine?” She unfolded her fist in order to reveal a pair of crumbling cookies resembling a blend of Milkbone biscuits and cow dung.

“Sure. Come closer and drop them into my pocket. I’ll throw them out at home later on.”

“Like I said. Smooth move. This is just your way of getting me near you,” Lucy teased. “But I’m glad you came prepared. You ever heard the term ‘meadow muffins’? That’s what Gillian’s cookies taste like.”

James laughed and then, as Lucy placed her hand in his coat pocket, grew serious. “Actually,” he whispered, “I did want to talk to you about, ah, the two of us starting over.” He leaned his head closer to hers as the garbage truck roared in front of the house. “I’d like to take you out on a date. Not like the dates we had before, ah, before…” he trailed off.

“Before I got crazy obsessed with Sullie and drove you into the arms of Murphy Alistair?” Lucy asked, her cornflower blue eyes glinting.

“Exactly.” James exhaled. “I know we’ve been taking it slow-that we’ve been working our way into trusting one another, et cetera. But I’m ready, Lucy, and I want to prove it to you.” He turned to her, blocking her view of the green pickup truck from the Shenandoah Parks Department, which carried an enormous fir tree decorated with garlands of red berries and strings of glowing pinecones.

“That’s wonderful to hear, James.” There was a smile in Lucy’s voice. “We should find a way to celebrate, because you know that I’ve been ready since this summer!”

“A celebration.” James repeated the word, reveling in the positive images it evoked. “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. I’d like to do something especially romantic. Not a simple dinner and a movie or watching TV at your house like we used to do. Something memorable, so that we’ll always remember how we began our fresh start.” He lowered his voice even further. “Lucy, I’d really like to take you on-”

“Hey!” Gillian exclaimed and poked James in the back. “They’re throwing seedlings strapped to teddy bears! I didn’t get one last year and I so wanted to plant a tree near the corner of my front porch.” She set down her teacup and, seeing that James didn’t share her enthusiasm, grabbed Bennett’s arm instead. “ Please , Bennett, can you catch me one? Hurry!” When Bennett nodded his agreement, she yelled, “The truck is going to pass us by!”

James turned away from Lucy in order to watch his friend sprint down the sidewalk as quickly as he could in a pair of heavy black boots. He shoved his way through the crowd and chased after the departing pickup, determined to get the attention of one of the men riding in the pickup’s bed.

“Yo!” Bennett waved his arms and hollered at one of the Parks Department’s employees. “Hit me with a teddy bear, man! The lady in the pink house has gotta have one!”

A brown Smoky the Bear was hurtled through space too far to Bennett’s right. James watched as Bennett dove for the bear, stretching out his arms as far as he could. Unfortunately, he landed with a thud on the cold asphalt and the bear fell onto the sidewalk several feet away. The crowd cheered at Bennett as he leapt to his feet and shoved the plush animal inside his parka.

“Woman!” Bennett growled, stomping onto the porch and presenting Gillian with her prize. “Gimme a little more notice next time you want me to beat my way through a crowd of women and kids and try to catch somethin’ that my grandma could have thrown with better aim.”

“You’re my hero !” Gillian hugged Bennett and then pointed at the bear. “Look! There’s a blue spruce sapling tied to this Smoky. I can plant it and we can all sit out here, spring after spring, sipping on a lovely cup of vanilla lavender tea, and watch it stretch its branches skyward.”

“Who is ‘all of us’?” Bennett scowled. “Does your boyfriend like vanilla lavender tea?” He made a big show of dusting off his coat sleeve, his pride clearly wounded as a result of making a dramatic but ineffective diving catch in front of his closest friends and about two hundred parade bystanders.

“As a matter of fact, Detective Harding does like tea,” Gillian replied smugly. “He’s very open to new experiences.” She refilled her cup. “And he’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t pigeonholed our relationship by trying to define it using conventional terms. We’re merely enjoying one another’s company by living in the now .”

“I’m surprised he has time to drink tea,” Bennett persisted. “ Sheriff Jones tells me that she’s keeping him pretty busy.”

Gillian frowned. “I don’t think the detective is kept occupied by your girlfriend’s insistence, but because he’s passionately devoted to protecting the good citizens of Abington County.”

Bennett poured himself another tumbler of hot buttered rum. “Ms. Jade Jones is not my girlfriend. She and I… we’re…” He pulled at his toothbrush mustache and intently searched his mind for the correct term.

Lindy held out her hands. “Enough! You two can tease one another about the romantic partners you collected at the Hudsonville barbecue festival this summer all you want after the cavalcade is over, okay? Besides, all this talk about boyfriends and girlfriends makes me miss Luis.”

“Where is the dashing Principal of Blue Ridge High again?” James inquired.

“He went to Mexico because his mama’s really sick,” Lindy answered sadly. “He’s her only son and he’s devoted to her. I hope she gets better soon, because I really miss him. He’s promised to bring our relationship out into the open at school. I can’t wait to see the looks on certain fellow teachers’ faces when they realize he’s now off the market.” She drained her glass and looked at the empty contents with a smirk. “Lucy, can you pour me another? These rum things are so delicious that I can almost forget about Luis bein’ gone and that my feet are too numb to be cold.” She smiled crookedly and touched the tip of her nose. “Shoot. I’m not cold anywhere. I’m feelin’ good all over! How much rum is in here, Lucy?”

Lucy laughed. “Enough to make me wanna run out to the street and see what the convicts are tossing from that bus!”

The white bus in question was crammed with jail inmates. The group of men, who wore orange jumpsuits and red Santa hats, waved and blew kisses to the crowd as they threw penguin finger puppets from the windows and into the hands of eager children.

“You’re probably responsible for several of those incarcerations,” James cautioned Lucy. “They might throw something at you besides a penguin.”

“They got themselves into those jumpsuits,” Lucy retorted firmly. “And only those who committed minor offenses get to ride in the parade bus. All the same, I think I’ll wait for the firemen. They’re a lot better looking than those jailbirds, and I hear they’ve made frosted gingerbread cookies shaped like dalmatians. One of those would go nicely with my hot buttered rum.” She grabbed Lindy’s hand. “Come on, Gillian. Let’s go ogle some of the men in yellow.”

The three women joined the crowd in order to whistle and coo at the burly, handsome men poised on top of their newly washed fire truck. On the roof were two wooden cutouts. One was of Santa. His rear end was on fire and his mouth formed a pink o of surprise and dismay. Standing alongside Santa’s burning bum was Rudolph the Reindeer, who held a bright red fire extinguisher between his two front hooves but seemed unable to use the device. The Quincy’s Gap Volunteer Fire & Rescue had used the same cutouts for years, yet they never failed to make the children laugh.

In addition to Santa and Rudolph, the fire truck was decorated with blinking chili pepper lights and was towing a small trailer bearing a burning Christmas tree and a pile of smoking presents. A lone fireman sat on the edge of the trailer and held up a sign reading Don’t Forget to Unplug Your Tree!

The fire truck was followed by the county’s only street cleaner. It moved at a snail’s pace while the driver tossed out small bags of coal (which were really black gumdrops) and cheerfully admonished the throng to clean up after themselves. “I’m goin’ on vacation!” He yelled over the roar of his machine. “And I don’t wanna be cleanin’ up after y’all at five in the mornin’!” He punctuated his message by stepping on the street cleaner’s accelerator, creating a puff of foul-smelling black smoke.

The children were delighted. They begged for a repeat performance while simultaneously stuffing their mouths with black gumdrops. When the voter registration vehicle came along, sending out voter application registrations in the form of paper airplanes, the children stuck out their black tongues until the woman in the passenger seat, who appeared harried by the entire experience, frantically flung out a large portion of her supply of candy canes in lieu of voting paraphernalia.

“Too much candy will rot your teeth!” she shouted as she hurled candy canes at a row of preteens.

“They’re too young to vote anyhow!” Bennett shouted in the children’s defense.

After three glasses of hot buttered rum, James found himself laughing at everything the cavalcade had to offer. He even managed to choke down one of the three cookies left on Gillian’s platter-a feat so impressive that Bennett offered to eat the remaining two. He had just swallowed the second when the snow began to fall. What began as a few flakes blown lazily around the porch by the wind quickly morphed into a genuine snowfall. Within minutes, the flakes seemed to grow smaller and multiply in a steady march toward the ground.

“Oh!” Lindy clapped her mittened hands. “It’s beautiful!”

Everyone agreed. The first snow of the season, illuminated by the twinkling colored lights entwined around Gillian’s railings, seemed magical. For the spectators gathered on the sidewalk, however, the precipitation became unpleasant in a hurry. The wind whipped cold snowflakes against their cheeks and noses, making them red and chapped. Moist bits of snow sneaked under scarves and wriggled down the front of jackets and planted wet kisses on exposed wrists.

“Good thing we’ve almost reached the finale,” Gillian said as she pointed at the crowd. “I believe those children by my front gate are turning blue.”

“Nah,” Bennett argued. “They’ve just got cotton candy all over their faces.”

“I feel sorry for their parents. How are they ever going to get those kids to sleep? They’re totally hopped up on sugar,” Lindy remarked with ill-disguised glee.

“Speaking of sweet,” Lucy gestured across the street, where a minivan had come to a stop in a parking spot reserved for event volunteers. “Isn’t that Milla?”

Beneath the sheen of a streetlamp, it was easy to recognize the lavender hue of Milla’s van as well as her vanity plate, which read LV2COOK . James groaned. “Oh no. She’s brought her sister, the harpy, with her. Brace yourselves, my friends. This woman is as fork-tongued as a serpent.”

“Oh come on.” Lindy swatted James with the end of her crimson scarf. “How can anyone related to Milla be mean? You must be exaggerating.”

“Trust me. Paulette Martine is Queen of the Shrews,” James answered nervously as Milla, Paulette, and Willow crossed the street and headed toward Gillian’s house.

Lucy, who had been watching the newcomers’ arrival with interest, gripped James by the hand when he mentioned Paulette’s name. “You didn’t tell us Milla’s sister was the Diva of Dough! Oh, James! Do you think she’ll be baking cakes while she’s here? I watch her TV show all the time. Man, oh man…” She paused to lick her lips. “You know frosted cakes are my big weakness, and this woman makes them like nobody’s business. How lucky for you that she’s related to your daddy’s future wife!”

“Yes, I’m feeling really lucky about having her join the family,” James mumbled caustically as Milla stepped onto the porch.

“Hello, my dears!” she shouted merrily, but James sensed that her smile was partially forced. “I’m so sorry to barge in on your fun like this. Normally, I’d be all snuggled in my nightgown with my darling Sir Charles the Corgi at my feet and a Nora Roberts novel in my hand, but my sister was just dying to witness our little event, so here we are. Did we miss the whole thing?” she asked anxiously.

“It’s just about done,” Lindy answered regretfully. “That’s the Department of Finance limo,” she explained to Paulette and Willow, who had yet to speak. “They toss chocolate coins to the kids along with little slips of paper telling them that it’s never to early to open a bank account.”

“How quaint,” Paulette responded flatly, and then pursed her lips. “And this ‘assemblage’ is what passes for entertainment around here? You voluntarily stand out in the frigid cold while vehicles decorated with as much kitsch as can be found in your ‘dollar’ stores pass by distributing stale, tasteless confections.”

Bennett leaned over to Lucy and whispered, “Does she talk like that on her show? All highfalutin and frostier than a snowman?”

Lucy nodded, surprisingly unruffled by Paulette’s criticism of their holiday event. “The Christmas Cavalcade is pretty creative,” she explained to their guest and gestured at the street. “Here comes the Sanitation Department. They’re one of the crowd pleasers because they throw out these little rubber frogs called Mistle Toads. They’re stuffed with gooey chocolate and when you squeeze their bellies, it oozes out of a tiny hole in their mouths. No one knows how the garbage men manage to get the chocolate inside the frogs.”

“How fascinatingly repulsive,” Paulette replied with a frown. “All I really wanted was a cup of hot tea with my sister, but the establishment masquerading as my hotel is only stocked with Lipton. No Ashby, no Mariage Frères, no Tazo-not even a packet of humble Twinings. There’s simply nothing suitable for me to drink in that hovel and I didn’t even ask for coffee.” Paulette indicated Willow with a nod of her chin. “And my assistant was incapable of procuring us a suitable rental car for this evening so that she could track down some essentials, so Milla agreed to pick us up in her uniquely colored van and take us to the home of someone who purportedly had good taste in tea.” She scanned her audience. “Is it possible that one of you has a sophisticated palate?”

Gillian perked up immediately. “That must certainly be me! I have an entire spectrum of organic herbal teas. Would you care to come inside and peruse my pantry?”

Paulette nodded. “You can stay out here, Willow. Perhaps one of the rubber frogs from the garbage truck will turn into your prince if you kiss it with enough desperation. Come along, Milla. No sense you catching a cold with your ‘big day’ coming up.”

As soon as the Diva of Dough, followed by a subdued Milla, entered Gillian’s house, Willow breathed a sigh of relief. James quickly introduced her to his friends and then offered her the last of the hot buttered rum. “I think you may need this more than anyone here.”

“Thanks.” Willow accepted the tumbler. “I used to carry a flask of vodka with me everywhere. Paulette likes freshly squeezed orange juice in the morning before her five or six daily lattes from Starbucks, so I’d just make myself an OJ and add a little splash of survival vodka. It got me through ’til lunchtime, anyway.”

“I’d need more than a flask if I were workin’ with that she-devil.” Bennett pulled on his mustache.

“Well, I don’t even have that now.” Willow looked at the floor, shamefaced. “Paulette smelled the vodka on my breath one day and that was that. I guess it was good because only alcoholics drink at work like I was doing. So now I smoke instead.” She dug a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket and grinned abashedly. “I’ll just go out to the street for a minute.” She eyed Gillian’s front door nervously. “If she comes out, just tell her I went to catch one of those frogs. She’d love to think I was obeying her orders to the letter.”

The four friends watched the young woman scuttle down to the sidewalk, where she bent her head down and cupped her cigarette with her left hand, clearly determined to get it lit despite the swirling wind and snow.

“Poor thing,” Lindy said, and then she clucked her tongue. “No one should be treated like that.”

“I told you what Paulette was like.” James lowered his voice. “And I tried to talk to her about being nice because this was her sister’s community and people are kind to strangers in these parts, but I guess she’s not called a diva for nothing.”

“Well, the Diva’s going to miss the finale.” Lucy looked pleased by the idea. “Here comes Santa!”

An old yellow school bus corroded by rust lumbered down the street. The spectators in front of Gillian’s house gave their heartiest cheers and the children began to shriek at the top of their vocal ranges as they hopped up and down in excitement. The bus, which was driven by a very authentic-looking Santa Claus in denim overalls and a red flannel shirt, was occupied by the mayor and her staff. Each adult wore a green elf hat, pointy ears, and a red clown nose. The elves hung out the open bus windows, jingling hand bells and smiling widely in order to display their fake “redneck” teeth, which protruded from their mouths in crooked rows of brown and yellow.

Just below the line of windows, the bus had been spray-painted with the words Hillbilly School Bus. A chicken coop had been erected on the roof and several agitated chickens, ducks, and white geese strutted about on a pile of straw. A shotgun rack had been built behind Santa’s back and he waved at the crowd with a hand brandishing an empty whiskey bottle. Plush raccoons, squirrels, and rabbits hung from hooks inside the open passenger door while the mayor’s four basset hounds occupied the rear bucket seat. Every inch of the bus’s exterior was covered in a mismatched hodgepodge of Christmas lights.

Santa and the elves sang “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth,” paying no mind to pitch, tempo, or any other musical element that might produce a harmonious sound. In fact, each time the group hit a high note, the mayor’s dogs began to howl, which the bystanders found incredibly funny.

“What’s the big prize this year?” Lindy asked.

James laughed as the elves began to shower the crowd with red, green, and silver Hershey’s kisses.

“The kid’s prize is a new mountain bike, complete with helmet and knee pads,” Lucy answered. “And boy, would I love to win the adult prize. It’s a thousand-dollar Christmas shopping spree. Vendors from all over the county donated gift certificates good in their stores for the next two weeks only. How much fun would it be to spend all that much money at once?” She rubbed her hands together excitedly.

“But you’re a county employee, just like the rest of us.” Bennett gave Lucy a perplexed look. “We’re excluded from winning the shoppin’ spree, so why get all worked up?”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Lucy demanded crossly. “Anyway, if Gillian gets out to the street in time, she might catch the Hershey’s Kiss with the winning message on its tag.” She glanced through Gillian’s living room window. “How long can it take to make a pot of tea anyway?”

“That crazy redhead’s probably whispering some Buddhist chant as the water boils,” Bennett said with a snort.

The hillbilly bus slugged past Gillian’s house. Its exhaust issued a series of loud reports that caused the youngest children to scream in mock fear and the mayor’s bloodhounds to increase their frenzied keening. Amid the raucousness, Willow made her way back onto the porch. Her pale face was illuminated by Gillian’s lights and her white-blonde hair was nearly obscured by snow. She seemed immune to the cold, and James thought that she looked quite pretty with her cheeks tinged pink by the chilly air.

“This parade is so cool!” she exclaimed. “Do you see how psyched all those kids are? Staying up late and being given all this free loot? And are those real chickens on the roof of that ancient school bus? You’d never see anything like this in New York. It’s all so… I don’t know…”

“Fun?” James suggested.

“Yes, but without the glitz and glam of a Macy’s parade.” Willow unwrapped a chocolate kiss and popped it in her mouth. “Take the candy, for example. In the city, we’d be looking inside this chocolate for razor blades or white powder. But here, you feel safe. Everything seems more genuine. More pure. I feel like I’d be welcome here no matter how much money I made or what I wore.”

“That part’s true, but we’ve got plenty of crime here too. Trust me,” Lucy countered, and then quickly softened her tone. “But you’re right about the sincerity. I’m glad you were able to see our hillbilly Santa at any rate. After all the years I’ve seen this parade, I still don’t know who he really is.”

“Maybe it’s not a costume.” Bennett winked and nudged Lucy.

At that moment, raised voices could be heard emanating from within Gillian’s house. The supper club members exchanged worried glances, for one of the voices was clearly Gillian’s and she rarely shouted. James could also discern that Milla was yelling at both Paulette and Gillian and wondered whether he should go inside or let the women sort things out for themselves.

Willow must have sensed that James was torn over what course of action to take. She touched his arm lightly and timidly said, “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. She’ll just turn on you if you’re in her line of fire.”

“But Gillian’s my friend and Milla’s my…” He paused. “Well, Milla is Paulette’s sister. I guess she knows better than anyone how to handle the Diva of Dough.”

Suddenly, Gillian’s screen door was flung open and Paulette strode outside, clinging to the fox-fur collar of her coat. James couldn’t help but notice that the blouse she wore underneath seemed to be covered by some kind of wet stain.

“I’m soaked to the bone!” Paulette raged and turned a pair of angry gray eyes on Willow. “Get my umbrella open, you dolt. I’m already in danger of coming down with pneumonia, no thanks to the liberal, tree-hugging lunatic that owns this house. Milla! I mean it! I’m leaving this minute!”

Without a word to anyone else, Paulette stomped down the stairs. Willow followed a half-step behind, holding a black umbrella covered by gold interlocked Chanel Cs over the Diva’s head.

“I apologize for my sister’s behavior,” Milla said as she and Gillian stepped onto the porch. “I know how much you love animals. I do too, and I had no idea she could be so cruel about them.”

Gillian was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry too. I should never have asked her if that fox fur on her coat was real. If only she hadn’t gone into all that detail about the fur farms and…” She choked back a sob.

Milla squeezed Gillian’s shoulder and then shot an embarrassed glance James’s way. “It was a mistake to come over here-I just wanted Paulette’s first evening to be a positive one, and I knew there’d be good tea and wonderful company here. Oh dear, I hope we didn’t completely tarnish your time together.”

James enveloped his future stepmother in a tight hug. “Don’t worry about it, Milla. You just added more color to a colorful night.”

Milla smiled at him in gratitude and then trotted after her sister.

“What happened in there?” Bennett asked Gillian.

“That woman said such horrible things about the mink and fox fur farms where they get fur coats like hers. She told me how the animals… how they gnaw at their own limbs because they’re so upset to be in such tiny cages.” Gillian sniffed as another tear rolled down her cheek. “She told me she was proud that the fox cub used on her coat had obviously been electrocuted before he could cause any damage to his pelt.” After blowing her nose, Gillian balled the tissue into a tight wad inside her fist.

“Don’t think about it any more,” Lindy stopped Gillian from dwelling on the morbid subject by putting her arm around her sniffling friend and pivoting her toward the front door. “Let’s all go inside for a bit and talk about something else, okay?”

Gillian nodded and allowed Lucy to pick up the tray bearing the teapot and cups.

“Well, you must have done somethin’ to fight back against the Wicked Witch of the North,” Bennett said, searching Gillian’s face. “She left here pretty steamed, so I’d say she didn’t get the last word anyhow.”

“Steamed is right,” Gillian replied and blew her nose with finality. “I poured an entire cup of jasmine pearl oolong tea on her. I thought she might be able to sympathize over the plight of an electrocuted animal if she felt a little heat herself. I knew it wouldn’t burn her. The water hadn’t boiled yet. Still, now I’ve wasted a particularly delicate handful of tea leaves on that fur-wearing monster ! And I cannot stand waste!”

“I just can’t believe that someone who makes such tantalizingly sweet and beautiful cakes can be so, well, sour.” Lucy closed her thermos and went inside.

James was the last one on the porch. He took a brief look down the street, where the school bus had already turned the corner and was heading down Main Street at a steady crawl, and then blinked. For a moment, he was positive that he had seen a small, red elf duct taped to the yellow vehicle’s rear emergency exit door.

“Glowstar?” James called in confusion, and then he shook his head. How could the library’s elf have found his way onto the hillbilly school bus? Who would kidnap their elf and then tape him onto the last vehicle of the Christmas Cavalcade?

“Nah,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “It couldn’t be Glowstar. Must be some other elf.” Still, he couldn’t help watching the small red form as it disappeared into the distance. Its plastic face looked very familiar. James knew that come Monday, he’d have to at least mention the sighting to the Fitzgerald brothers. He also knew that they wouldn’t rest until the mystery of the missing elf had been solved.